


Candles & Stars

by yours_eternally



Series: Early Band Oneshots [1]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pre-Band, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: Ricky becomes aware of two things in close succession. The first is he’s holding his breath. The second is they’re both hard.Fuck.Chris isn’t laughing now. Ricky knows this is the part where he lets go of Chris, they turn away from each other and go to sleep — and never speak about the fact they’re both hard right now ever again. But he kind of just doesn’t.Ricky and Chris have been chatting online for months. It's only after Ricky invites the band (Chris) to crash at his place after their show that he realises there might be more to the connection between them. Pre-band. Sort of.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: Early Band Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011711
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	Candles & Stars

Ricky squirms onto his other side, trying to get comfortable. When he lifts his head, mashing the couch cushion he's using as a pillow into a better shape, he can see the uneven landscape of half a dozen bodies curled on his living room floor.

Chris had found him out of the crowd after the show, hugging him around the waist and demanding what he’d thought of the set, and Ricky’s mouth had just started talking; he had a couch and a shower, and he knew how shitty it was sleeping in a van. Ricky settles down again, trying to convince his whirring mind to sleep. The darkened room is warm and full of the sound of quiet breathing.

From where he’s laying, Ricky can see a muted light. Chris is laying with his back to him. Over his shoulder, Ricky can see his phone is an inch from his face. Ricky sucks his lips rings taking in the long line of his bare back. He’d causally shrugged his shirt off to sleep and Ricky kind of can’t stop wondering if he usually sleeps naked.

They’d been emailing on and off for months, sometimes calling. Ricky had surprised himself by keeping it up; who knew he’d wanted a penpal? It was after Chris happened to see a video online of a local show Ricky had been playing in that his _Rick-Must-Join-The-Band_ campaign had started in earnest. It’s flattering. Chris is so full of everything, plans and bands and horror movies and music and flickering stage lights. And he wants Ricky. Chris wants him to play in his band. It's ridiculous, impossible, and intoxicating. Besides, his voice sounds really good on the phone.

Now Chris is laying beside him, less than a handspan away. Ricky could just reach out and trace the blade of the straight-edge razor inked over his ribs if he wanted. Chris flinches and Ricky snatches his hand back realising he did actually touch Chris by mistake. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ His heart starts pounding and he wonders if he can close his eyes and pretend to still be asleep. But Chris has already dropped his phone and rolled towards him. Ricky can’t do much but smile awkwardly as Chris’ eyes move over his face. He can feel his cheeks burning.

‘Sorry, did I wake you with the light?’ Chris whispers when Ricky doesn’t speak.

‘No, I was awake,’ Ricky says, voice low so not as to wake anyone else. ‘Sorry, I um, I was looking at your tattoo.’

‘It’s okay,’ Chris says. He’d closed the distance between them when he rolled over. Chris’ face is so close to Ricky’s he could count his eyelashes. He looks good this close. He’s still sort of made-up from the show though his eyeshadow is smudged down his cheeks. ‘Do you like it?’

‘I do, yeah,’ Ricky says, grinning because Chris is so close and he doesn’t know what to say. Chris smiles back.

‘Do you…’ Chris starts then shifts slightly, moving infinitesimally closer, ‘like, date?’

‘Date?’ Ricky repeats, because his ears are ringing from where his blood pressure has shot through the roof. Chris shifts again.

‘Yeah like,’ Chris mumbles, eyes flicking over Ricky’s face then down again, ‘y’know, you have a girlfriend, right?’

‘No,’ Ricky says quietly.

‘Oh,’ Chris says. _Fuck. What does that mean?_ Ricky waits with his eyes on Chris' face trying to gauge his reaction in the half-dark of the living room. Chris doesn't say anything else.

‘You guys were really good tonight,’ Ricky says, after another moment. Chris is grinning at him again. Ricky smiles back, relieved.

‘You know what I think would make us better?’ Chris says and Ricky snorts because he knows what’s coming next. ‘If you were to come and—’

‘Stop with this bullshit,’ Ricky hisses, laughing, ‘you have a guitarist, two guitarists! What do you want me to do? Kill one of them?’

‘You let me worry about that,’ Chris says and Ricky laughs again.

‘You are so full of shit,’ Ricky says but it’s fond.

‘Hey, fuck you,’ Chris says back, equally fond, shoving at his shoulder and Ricky shoves back. They sort of wrestle, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to disturb everyone else sleeping in the room. Ricky ends up on top of Chris both hands clamped over his mouth to stifle the giggling Ricky can feel him shaking with. Chris has a hand fisted in his t-shirt and the other gripping Ricky’s thigh. Ricky’s nearly biting through his lip to stop himself laughing. They’d rolled away from the person sleeping on the other side of Chris so they’re almost flush against the wall, half behind an armchair. But they’re far from alone and any sound much louder than their previous whispered conversation is going to bring the house down.

He looks at Chris; he’s ruffled from their playfight and Ricky can see his eyeliner has smudged onto his forehead. He’s looking back at Ricky; his eyes are blackest black.

Ricky becomes aware of two things in close succession. The first is he’s holding his breath. The second is they’re both hard. _Fuck._ Chris isn’t laughing now. Ricky knows this is the part where he lets go of Chris, they turn away from each other and go to sleep — and never speak about the fact they’re both hard right now ever again. But he kind of just doesn’t.

Instead he lowers his mouth and presses his lips to the back of his knuckles where they’re covering Chris’ mouth. His eyes meet Chris’; asking. He can feel Chris nod under his hands so removes them and replaces them with his lips. Chris’ mouth is hot and when Ricky slips his tongue inside it’s molten. They kiss tentatively, unused to each other. Chris’ fingertips trace along his jaw and Ricky shivers at the light touch.

Chris kisses him harder; sucking his bottom lip; tongue dragging over his teeth; grabbing fistful of his hair as he rolls them over until Ricky’s on his back under him. Chris pulls back a little and Ricky exhales. He’s flushed, blood flooding into every place Chris is touching him. He wants everything at once. Chris’ hands, mouth, cock, lips, tongue, teeth, nails, fingers.

Chris goes back to his mouth, thigh pushing up between Ricky’s. He’s heavy and the pressure of his body on Ricky is making him lose his mind. Ricky moans into the kisses. Chris licks his mouth, cupping his face as he ruts against him. Ricky can feel Chris’ skin burning even through the denim of his jeans. His cock is throbbing from the muffled pressure of Chris’ thigh and his rocking hips. Ricky skates a hand down his back and grips Chris’ behind as he pants, letting his head thunk back against the floor as Chris thrusts down rubbing a carpet burn all across his back.

Chris mumbles to him but it’s too soft to hear, and since Chris’ fingers are on the zip of his jeans doesn’t seem very important. Ricky sticks his hand between them as well, fumbling to find Chris’ cock through his clothes. Chris hisses through his teeth as Ricky squeezes him with his palm.

Ricky kisses him again, getting his zip down and his hand inside his jeans. Chris buries his head into the space where Ricky’s neck meets his shoulder but Ricky can still hear him making little gasping noises every time he breathes. It’s delicious. His hot breaths are making Ricky’s insides twist up until he’s on a knife edge. He pushes up into the hand Chris still has on his zip and Chris takes the hint, popping the button on his fly and spreading the zip. Ricky holds the back of his head, trying not to bite through his tongue when he feels the pads of Chris’ fingers brush the head of his cock for the first time. Ricky slides his hand into Chris’ underwear.

They both go still when they’re skin to skin.

His heart is hammering in his chest as he starts to stroke Chris’ cock, making him huff and squirm. Ricky rubs his cheek against Chris' hair. He hopes it feels… good. He’s gotten nervous all of sudden, static sparking across his palms. He’s used to quick, sticky fumbles; in club toilets or spare bedrooms at house parties. Cursory kisses and no talking. Guys he’s never going to see again. Guys he doesn't want to see again. But he _likes_ Chris. And he doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Chris is kissing his neck, successfully distracting him from panicking. Ricky smooths his thumb over the head of Chris’ cock making him shudder. It’s dry but Chris obviously wants it; hips flexing shallow thrusts into Ricky’s palm. He’s hugging Ricky into him with his free arm, hand is still around Ricky’s cock as well. Chris’ rhythm starts to stutter. Ricky kisses his hair, feeling his cock pulsing in his hand. Chris goes rigid. Ricky can feel his come wet his hand as Chris pulls back from him gasping.

‘Okay?’ Ricky says, smiling at Chris as he blinks back at him. After a moment Chris nods, shifting back towards him.

Chris’ hand is still in his underwear, the pressure just about taking the edge off the throbbing in his cock. But when Chris takes his hand away, Ricky nearly squeaks. He can see Chris grin as he lifts his head to lick his palm and fit it back around Ricky’s cock. The slide of skin on skin is almost immediately too much, stroking and rubbing in a way that makes Ricky’s spine curl into him.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Ricky grunts, digging his nails into the skin on Chris’ back. A sharp spike of pleasure shoots up through his gut and it takes everything in him to swallow the cry in his throat. Chris keeps hold of him while he rides it out, kissing his forehead. At last Ricky goes limp, panting. Chris kisses his mouth again though Ricky’s so oversensitive he can barely respond. Ricky smiles into the kiss feeling that warm rush he knows is Oxytocin but feels like love.

‘Are you okay?’ Chris says gently and Ricky realises his face is wet and he’s shaking. _Fuck._

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he mumbles quickly, wiping his hands down his jeans, not caring what they’re going to look like in the morning as he uses the heels of his hands to wipe his eyes. ‘—it’s just intense.’

‘Mmm,’ Chris agrees, yawning. He tucks himself away and pulls up the zip on his jeans, reaching to pull Ricky into him again so his chest is against Ricky’s back. Ricky clumsily fixes his clothes as well. Chris dumps an arm across his stomach, curling his long limbs around him and tucks his head into the back of Ricky’s neck.  
  
Ricky lays still as Chris’ breathing slows and evens out. He’s sure he’s too wired to ever sleep again but something happens and the next time he opens his eyes the room is full of sunlight and someone’s launched a couch cushion directly at his face. When he sits up to throw it back Chris’ arm drops from his waist.

**Author's Note:**

> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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